Section IV Carolina, Baroness Nairne
“For winning simplicity, graceful expression, and exquisite pathos, her compositions are specially remarkable; but when her muse prompts to humour, the laugh is sprightly and overpowering.”
Charles Rogers, LL.D.
WHAT IS POETRY?
It is much easier to give a negative than a positive answer to this question. All that we seem to have arrived at is, Poeta nascitur non fit; and that no amount or kind of culture can bestow the divine afflatus. Hesiod, in his “Theogony,” exhibits the Muses in the performance of their highest functions, singing choral hymns to their Heavenly Father, but gives no proper definition of poetry. Aristotle, in his treatise on “The Poetic,” does not explain its essence, but merely its principal forms. Dr. Johnson has attempted to define poetry in these words: “Poetry is the art of uniting pleasure with truth, by calling imagination to the aid of reason.” But it is well known that poetry often unites pleasure to what is not truth. According to Dr. Blair, “Poetry is the language of passion or enlivened imagination, formed most commonly into regular numbers.” This seems a pretty near approach to a true definition. Still it is defective, for there are parts of poetry which are not included either under “passion or enlivened imagination.” Competent critics will admit that a true definition seizes and exhibits the distinctive element and speciality of the thing defined; and tried by this test every definition we are acquainted with fails in doing the very thing required—determining what may be called the “differential mark” of poetry. Perhaps this question, which has so long puzzled the literary world, may be incapable of a categorical answer, but it seems to us essentially to consist of fine thoughts, deeply felt, and expressed in vivid and melodious language. Poets and poetesses see farther than other people, feel more deeply, and utter what they see and feel better. All history testifies that the poetry which has come down to us most deeply stamped with approbation, and which appears most likely to see and glorify the ages of the future, has been penetrated and inspired by moral purpose, and warmed by religious feeling. Our great kings and queens of song, are alike free from morbid weakness, moral pollution, and doubtful speculation. Such only may hope to send their names down, in thunder and in music, through the echoing aisles of the future. All lasting fame must rest on a good foundation.
BIOGRAPHY.
The maiden name of the subject of this sketch was Carolina Oliphant. She was the third daughter and fifth child of Laurence Oliphant, Esq., of Gask, Perthshire, who had espoused his cousin Margaret Robertson, a daughter of Duncan Robertson, of Strowan, and his wife a daughter of the second Lord Nairne. The Oliphants of Gask were cadets of the formerly noble house of Oliphant; whose ancestor, Sir William Oliphant, of Aberdalgie, a powerful knight, acquired distinction in the beginning of the fourteenth century by defending the castle of Stirling, against a formidable siege by the first Edward. Carolina was born in the mansion house of Gask, on the 16th of July, 1766. Her father was so keen a Jacobite, that she, along with other two of his children, were named after Prince Charles Edward. Even the Prayer-Books which he put into his children’s hands had the names of the exiled family pasted over those of the reigning one. He could not bear the name of the “German lairdie and his leddy,” to be mentioned in his presence, and when any of the family read the newspapers to him, the reader was sharply reproved if their majesties were designated anything else than the “K—— and Q——.” The antecedents of the family naturally produced this strong feeling. Carolina’s father and grandfather had borne arms under Prince Charles in the fatal campaign of 1745-6, which crushed for ever the hopes of the Stuarts; and her grandmother had a lock from the hair of the young Chevalier, which was given to her the day it was cut.
The childhood of Carolina Oliphant was thus passed amidst family traditions eminently fitted to stir her warm imagination. Not only so, the natural surroundings of her home were of the kind to nourish the poetic faculty. It was the
“Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,”
where green vales bedeck the landscape with verdure and beauty; farmhouses stand half-way up the braes, shadowed with birches; and old castles frown in feudal dignity. Amid such magic scenes, Miss Oliphant grew into that loving familiarity with nature in all its various moods, which imparts to her verses one of their many charms. She entered eagerly into all the pleasures which the world can afford its votaries. So energetic was she in her gaiety, that “finding at a ball, in a watering-place, that the ladies were too few for the dance, she drove home, and awoke a young friend at midnight, and stood in waiting till she was equipped to follow her to the dance.”
But although no mere selfish, frivolous, fine lady, bent solely upon her own enjoyments, yet it might be said of her, “one thing thou lackest.” That best gift, however, was soon to be hers. The kingdom of heaven was brought near to her, and through grace, unlike the young man in the gospel, she did not turn away because of her possessions. “She was on a visit to the old castle of Murthly, where an English clergyman had also arrived. He was a winner of souls. At morning worship she was in her place with the household, and listened to what God’s ambassador said on the promise, ‘Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out.’ That forenoon she was seen no more. When she appeared again her beautiful face was spoiled with weeping. Beneath the eye of faith, how does the aspect of all things change! She had caught a glimpse of the glory of the Son of God, and burned with love to Him of whom she could henceforth say, ‘Whose I am and whom I serve.’ Her pen, her pencil, her harp, as afterwards her coronet, were laid at His feet, to be henceforth used, used up by and for the King.”
Many lovers had sought in vain the hand of Miss Carolina Oliphant, but on June the 6th, 1806, she married her maternal cousin William Murray Nairne, who was Inspector-General of Barracks in Scotland, and held the rank of major in the army. His hereditary title was Baron Nairne, but it was one of the titles attainted by the rebellion.
Her wedded life was one of great happiness. Blest in the husband of her fondest affection, and encircled with all the endearing delights of domestic enjoyment, the union was a delightful one; the husband and wife lived as joint-heirs of the grace of life; one in the family, in the social circle, and in the house of God; singing the same song, joining in the same prayer, and feasting on the same comforts. The sun seldom rose on a happier habitation. An only child, William, was born in 1808.
Mrs. Nairne seems to have judged correctly as to her true vocation. Shocked with the grossness of the songs in popular use, she determined to purify the lyrics of her country; and while doing this she contrived carefully to conceal the worker. First she sent some verses to the president of an agricultural dinner held in the neighbourhood. They were received with great approbation, and set to music. Thus encouraged, song followed song,—some humorous, some pathetic, but all vastly superior in simple poetic power, as well as moral tone, to those she was anxious to supplant. Soon her lyrics were scattered broadcast over the land, carrying pure and elevated sentiments, and even religious truth, into many a neglected home. Through the influence of a lady, who knew her claims as a poetess, she was induced in 1821 to contribute to a collection of national songs, which was being published by Mr. Robert Purdie, an enterprising music-seller in Edinburgh. Her contributions were signed “B. B.” and Mr. Purdie and his editor, Mr. R. A. Smith, were under the impression that the popular authoress was Mrs. Bogan, of Bogan. The songs of “B. B.” were sung in all the chief towns by professed vocalists, and were everywhere hailed with applause. Public curiosity was aroused as to the authorship, and the question was debated in the newspapers, to the great alarm of the real authoress.
In 1822, George the Fourth, who had considerable intellectual ability, and some virtues as well as frailties, although no man of Mr. Thackeray’s abilities has set himself to look for the former, visited Scotland, and heard Mrs. Nairne’s song, “The Attainted Scottish Nobles” sung: this circumstance is generally supposed to have led to the restoration of the peerage to her husband. At all events, in 1824, the attainder was removed by Act of Parliament, and the title of his fathers bestowed on Major Nairne.
On July the 9th, 1830, Lady Nairne became a widow. The trial was ill to bear. But she had one availing consolation, she knew his star had set on this world, to rise and shine in brighter skies: vital Christianity was as visible in her departed husband, as the broad black seal that death had stamped upon his brow. He had gone before to the presence of that Saviour whom they had loved and served together.
Her son, now in his twenty-second year, succeeded to the title of his father. With that wondrous solicitude which fills a mother’s heart towards her only child, Lady Nairne had watched the training of her boy; and she had a rich reward. He grew up no mere devotee of mammon, or fashion, or fame, but a youth of good intellectual powers, high moral qualities, and sound religious principles—all that a Christian mother could desire. But alas! this gourd was doomed to perish also. In the spring of 1837, the young baron suffered much from influenza, and for the benefit of his health he went to Brussels, accompanied by his mother. There he caught a severe cold, and after an illness of six weeks, died on the 7th of December, 1837. Her heart bled for her son, but no murmur escaped her lips. She was content that Christ should come into her garden and pluck the sweetest flower. Yet she deeply felt her loss. “I sometimes say to myself,” she wrote to a friend, “this is ‘no me,’ so greatly have my feelings and trains of thought changed since ‘auld lang syne,’ and though I am made to know assuredly that all is well, I scarcely dare to allow my mind to settle on the past.”
“Hast thou sounded the depth of yonder sea,
And counted the sands that under it be?
Hast thou measured the height of heaven above?—
Then mayest thou mete out a mother’s love.”
After this sad event Lady Nairne might have been seen taking her walk in a cool anteroom, “passing and repassing the bust of her darling son, and stopping as often to gaze on it, then replacing the white handkerchief that covered it to keep it pure.”
In her old age Lady Nairne resided chiefly on the Continent, and frequently at Paris; but the last two years of her life were spent at Gask. Feeble in body and worn in spirit, on the verge of another world, where praise or censure is nothing, her interest in the salvation of souls was as fresh as ever. To the teacher of a school where children were daily taught, she thus delivered her sentiments on the great subject of education. “You say they like ‘The Happy Land’ best: is the gospel in it? Repeat it.” Her eager eye watched each line till she should hear what satisfied her. She then said, “It’s pretty, very sweet; but it might be clearer. Remember, unless the work of Christ for them as sinners comes in,—the ransom, the substitution,—what you teach is worthless for their souls.” On Sunday, the 26th of October, 1845, in the mansion house of Gask, she quietly sank to the rest she had so long looked for, at the advanced age of seventy-nine years.
Not in the crowded cemetery of the city, where many of the wise, mighty, and noble have been laid down to repose; but in the lovely churchyard among the mountains of her own picturesque county, where the “rude forefathers of the hamlet lie,” did a weeping crowd commit the remains of Lady Nairne to the cold ground. The burial service was read by the Rev. Sir William Dunbar, Bart.
EXTRACTS AND CRITICISMS.
One good song is sufficient to secure immortality. Sappho lives in virtue of a single song. What then shall we say of Lady Nairne who has bequeathed more of these imperishable breathings to her country and to the world than any Caledonian bard, Burns alone excepted. The lyrics of Scotland were characterized by a loose ribaldry, she resolved to supply songs of a higher type. Take the following verses as a specimen of the good common sense, the cheerful practical philosophy, which, joined to poetic imagery, made its way to the hearts of the people.
“Saw ye ne’er a lanely lassie,
Thinkin’ gin she were a wife,
The sun of joy wad ne’er gae down,
But warm and cheer her a’ her life.
“Saw ye ne’er a weary wifie,
Thinkin’ gin she were a lass
She wad aye be blithe and cheerie,
Lightly as the day wad pass.
“Wives and lassies, young and aged,
Think na on each ither’s state;
Ilka ane it has its crosses,
Mortal joy was ne’er complete.
“Ilka ane it has its blessings;
Peevish dinna pass them by;
Seek them out like bonnie berries,
Tho’ amang the thorns they lie.”
In 1824, “The Scottish Minstrel” was completed in six volumes, royal octavo, and Mr. Purdie and his editor, Mr. Smith, still believing “B. B.” to stand for Mrs. Bogan of Bogan, said, “In particular the editors would have felt happy in being permitted to enumerate the many original and beautiful verses that adorn their pages, for which they are indebted to the author of the much admired song, ‘The Land o’ the Leal;’ but they fear to wound a delicacy which shrinks from all observation.” “The Land o’ the Leal” well deserved the praise bestowed upon it. The name alone is a triumph of word-painting. Who that has heard it sung in a Scotch gloaming to a group of eager listeners will not confirm our words, that there is no song, not even of Burns, nor of Moore, nor of Béranger, nor of Heine, which approaches on its own ground “The Land o’ the Leal”? It was written for relatives of Lady Nairne’s, who had lost a child; its pathos is most exquisite.
“I’m wearin’ awa, John,
Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John,
I’m wearin’ awa
To the land o’ the leal.
There’s nae sorrow there, John;
There’s neither cauld nor care, John;
The day’s aye fair
In the land o’ the leal.
“Our bonnie bairn’s there, John,
She was baith good and fair, John;
And, oh! we grudged her sair
To the land o’ the leal.
But sorrow’s sel’ wears past, John,
And joy’s a-comin’ fast, John—
The joy that’s aye to last,
In the land o’ the leal.
“Sae dear’s that joy was bought, John,
Sae free the battle fought, John,
That sinfu’ man ne’er brought
To the land o’ the leal.
Oh, dry your glistening e’e, John!
My soul langs to be free, John;
And angels beckon me
To the land o’ the leal.
“Oh, haud ye leal and true, John!
Your day it’s wearin’ through, John;
And I’ll welcome you
To the land o’ the leal.
Now fare-ye-weel, my ain John,
This warld’s cares are vain, John;
We’ll meet, and we’ll be fain,
In the land o’ the leal.”
The humorous and highly popular song entitled “The Laird o’ Cockpen,” was composed by Lady Nairne, in room of the older words connected with the air, “When she cam’ ben, she bobbit.” This is a song which every member of every Scotch audience has heard crooned or chirped in glee and waggery. It is matchless alike as respects scene and dramatis personæ, its fine suggestive touches, and its Scotch wut. The present Laird of Cockpen is the Earl of Dalhousie, an elder of the Free Church of Scotland, and grand-master of the Masonic Lodge of Scotland. We shall give this song also entire. The different style illustrates the genius of the authoress.
“The Laird o’ Cockpen he’s proud and he’s great,
His mind is ta’en up with the things o’ the state;
He wanted a wife his braw house to keep,
But favour wi’ wooin’ was fashious to seek.
“Down by the dyke-side a lady did dwell,
At his table-head he thought she’d look well;
M’Clish’s ae daughter o’ Claverse-ha’ Lee,
A penniless lass wi’ a lang pedigree.
“His wig was weel pouthered and as gude as new;
His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue;
He put on a ring, a sword, and cocked hat;
And wha could refuse the laird wi’ a’ that?
“He took the gray mare, and rade cannily,
And rapped at the yett o’ Claverse-ha’ Lee:
‘Gae tell mistress Jean to come speedily ben,
She’s wanted to speak to the Laird o’ Cockpen.’
“Mistress Jean was makin’ the elder-flower wine:
‘And what brings the laird at sic a like time?’
She put aff her apron, and on her silk gown,
Her mutch wi’ red ribbons, and gaed awa down.
“And when she cam’ ben, he bowèd fu’ low,
And what was his errand he soon let her know:
Amazed was the laird when the lady said ‘Na,’
And wi’ a laigh curtsey she turnèd awa’.
“Dumbfoundered he was—nae sigh did he gie;
He mounted his mare—he rade cannily;
And aften he thought, as he gaed through the glen,
She’s daft to refuse the Laird o’ Cockpen.
“And now that the laird his exit had made,
Mistress Jean she reflected on what she had said:
‘Oh! for ane I’ll get better, its waur I’ll get ten!
I was daft to refuse the Laird o’ Cockpen.’
“Next time the laird and the lady were seen,
They were gauin’ arm-in-arm to the kirk on the green;
Now she sits in the ha’ like a weel-tappit hen—
But as yet there’s nae chickens appeared at Cockpen.”
Her song, “Caller Herrin,” has acquired extensive popularity. The late John Wilson, the eminent vocalist, sung it in every principal town in the kingdom. In the touching lines “Rest is not here,” she embodied her own experience. The beautiful piece entitled “Would you be young again?” was composed in her seventy-sixth year.
Dr. Rogers has recently done justice to her memory by the publication of her life and songs. In this elegant book, a new edition of which has already been called for, there is an excellent portrait of the Baroness. The songs in the present volume may be confidently accepted as being certainly composed by the gifted authoress.
CHARACTER OF BARONESS NAIRNE.
In youth, Lady Nairne was distinguished for her personal charms and her devotion to the pursuits of the world. So remarkable was the beauty of her face and the elegance of her shape, that she was called “The Flower of Strathearn.” In her mature years her countenance wore a somewhat pensive cast.
She was endowed with gifts many and various. Possessed of a strong intellect, as well as a beautiful fancy, all learning was easily acquired. Her delights lay in the cultivation of an elegant imagination, and in the enjoyment of those pleasures which can only be tasted by a mind of a refined order. Capable of describing the play of human passions in a manner which awoke the deepest emotions of the heart, her songs became the theme of every tongue.
To promote both the spiritual and temporal welfare of her fellow-creatures, she gave largely of her means. Dr. Chalmers, in an address delivered at Edinburgh, on the 29th December, 1845, said,—“she wanted me to enumerate a list of charitable objects, in proportion to the estimate I had of their value. Accordingly, I furnished her with a scale of about five or six charitable objects. The highest in the scale were those institutions which have for their design the Christianizing of the people at home; and I also mentioned to her what we were doing in the West Port; and there came to me from her in the course of a day or two no less a sum than £300. She is now dead; she is now in her grave, and her works do follow her. When she gave me this noble benefaction, she laid me under strict injunctions of secrecy, and, accordingly, I did not mention her name to any person; but after she was dead, I begged of her nearest heir that I might be allowed to proclaim it, because I thought that her example, so worthy to be followed, might influence others in imitating her, and I am happy to say that I am now at liberty to state that it was Lady Nairne, of Perthshire.”